


Rewrite the Stars

by Filius_Adversarii



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, bruh i didnt even know i wrote this much of it, it was gonna be angsty but yknow, motivation is tricky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:41:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27719705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filius_Adversarii/pseuds/Filius_Adversarii
Summary: Can you guess what song i loosely based this fic on? lol good luck babes
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 30





	Rewrite the Stars

Merlin awoke to a slight scuffle, feeling the warmth of a lamp and hearing heavy, almost labored, breathing. Alert in seconds, he kept his eyes closed and breathing even, mind racing to remember a spell. These past few days in the castle had been stressful for everyone, with Morgana on the loose with Morgause. Everyone was on edge, Merlin even more so. If either of the witches were to discover his identity, he’d never be safe within the stone walls of Camelot.

The heavy breathing continued, and it almost sounded familiar to the young sorcerer. When no blade was pressed to his throat, no sound of a crossbow being notched, and no incantation could be heard, Merlin chanced opening one cobalt eye, peeking through the lamplit room to find the intruder.

Upon laying eyes on the individual in question, he sat upright immediately, eyes taking in his golden-haired master looming over the end of his bed.

“Arthur,” the young man hissed, trying to keep his voice low to avoid waking the other resident of the physician’s tower. “What are you doing here in the middle of the bloody night?”

The prince offered no immediate explanation, baby blue eyes continuing to shift over his manservant’s no longer sleeping form. Eventually his eyes made their way up to Merlin’s, the sorcerer’s eyes boring deep into his prince’s.

Arthur opened his mouth, trying to emit some form of explanation, but the questioning gaze of Merlin seemed to render him incapable. Snapping his mouth shut, he instead beckoned Merlin to him, simultaneously turning towards the door to exit.

Curious, Merlin reached for his shoes and pulled them on before ambling after the lamplight now making its way with the prince through Gaius’ workshop. Before he finally caught up to the golden prince, Merlin watched as Arthur swayed on his feet slightly, bumping into the small table and scuffing his feet a few times too loudly on the way to the door that lead to the rest of the castle.

“Arthur, are you drunk?” The whispered question did not halt the prince’s progression and earned him a low mumbling sound that the young sorcerer could only interpret as confirmation of his suspicions.

Slowly but surely, Arthur made his way through the silent corridors of the citadel, following the familiar path that Merlin took every day to get to his master’s chambers. Upon reaching the door, Arthur turned quickly to gaze at his manservant; however, the movement was too quick, and the drunken prince had to brace himself against the wall to stay standing.

Merlin, who had been walking a few steps behind him, rushed to his side. “Arthur, you need to get to bed and sleep it off. Walking around the castle like this is dangerous in a state like yours.”

Finally letting words slip out, the prince whipped his head up to face Merlin. His speech slurred as he began, “Well, _Mer_ lin, maybe I wouldn’t have been walking around if my manservant had been around to do his job.” His critical, short-winded speech was punctuated by a loud burp, echoing through the castle halls.

“If you remember, _sire_ , you were the one who dismissed me,” Merlin hissed, glancing around to make sure no one had come to investigate the obnoxious noise. “You wanted to have a fun time with your knights and apparently had no need for a, and I quote, “wet blanket” to drag your sorry arse home and put you to bed.” Merlin thought back to the dismissal, remembering his prince’s words and the accompanying laughs of the already drunken Knights of Camelot.

Adopting a child’s whine, the prince in question responded, “You weren’t supposed to leave, Merlin. I was just trying to get you to loosen up a little bit, have some fun. We all missed you. _I_ missed you…” The prince trailed off on that last sentence, looking up at the man holding him up, something foreign in his gaze.

“What’s done is done, Arthur,” Merlin quipped, opting to ignore that last sentence, even when it made his heart tingle and his head light. “Now, let’s get you to bed. You’ve got a busy schedule tomorrow, and training starts early.” Looping his wiry arms around Arthur, the young sorcerer practically dragged the prince through the doorway and to his waiting bed. Arthur put up no resistance but made no effort to help his manservant in any way, going limp as a noodle in his arms.

Upon reaching the bed, Merlin plopped the prince unceremoniously onto the edge of the bed before realizing that his master was still in his clothing from his trip to the tavern, smelling strongly of ale and what was either bile or some nasty mud.

“You absolute prat,” the sorcerer chided. “You really can’t even manage to change your clothes on your own?”

Arthur offered no words, on grinning rakishly at the cobalt-eyed man.

“That’s a no then,” Merlin whispered, more for himself than the man before him. “Alright then, come on.” The manservant gripped his master’s shirt, quickly yanking it over his head.

“Ow, you idiot!” the prince shouted, and for a moment he sobered up. “That hurt!”

“Shush, Arthur!” Merlin whisper-shouted back. “Maybe if you weren’t such a clotpole, we wouldn’t be dealing with this right now.” And as if by magic, that simple sentence calmed the angry prince, sending him into a fit of snorts and giggles.

“You and your made-up words, Merlin,” Arthur managed, short of breath.

“You don’t find my insults very funny when you’re sober,” Merlin reminded him, crossing the room to the prince’s wardrobe for a sleeping tunic and pants. “In fact,” he stated matter-of-factly, “I’d wager that you wouldn’t even have a sense of humor if mead and ale weren’t present.”

Merlin quickly made his way back over to the drunken prince, who was now lounging on the edge of the bed watching the raven-haired man work. Silence fell over them as Merlin dragged the prince back into a sitting position and tugged the fresh shirt over his head. Moving to undo the laces of his master’s trousers, Arthur finally broke the silence.

“Getting a little frisky now aren’t we, _Mer_ lin?” His speech was slurred again, the mead taking over again, apparently.

The now dim lamp that sat on the bedside table illuminated an involuntary flush creeping across Merlin’s cheeks. “Don’t flatter yourself, _sire_ ; I’m not attracted to cabbage-heads and prats. Besides, what would Gwen say if she heard about me moving in on her turf.”

Awkwardly pulling Arthur’s trousers off, he placed the new ones on the floor, pulling the prince up and getting him to step into the leg holes so he could pull them up. He made quick work of the laces, finally finishing the dressing routine.

“Off to bed with you, prat. You haven’t got much longer to sleep, and you’ll be needing all the rest you can get to help with the hangover tomorrow. I’ll be by in the morning with a remedy from Gaius…” Merlin trailed off at this, face scrunching into a grimace at the memory of the foul-tasting brew he’d choked down on numerous occasions.

Arthur promptly plunked himself down onto the bed, remaining sitting up instead of lying down. His eyes glazed over, jaw slackened, lost in deep thought.

Merlin took this as a sign of dismissal, swiftly making his way to the door. Thoughts of his bed produced a siren call, luring him towards the door. It wasn’t until he had one foot out in the cavernous halls that he realized how dark the rest of the castle.

Delving back into his master’s chambers, Merlin hastily plucked the still-burning lamp from its resting place, eager to welcome sleep’s embrace once again. But, as he passed by Arthur, still sitting erect on his bed, the golden prince’s hand shot out, gripping the hem of Merlin’s tunic.

Startled, Merlin nearly dropped the lamp.

“I’m not-” Arthur started, the glazed look gone from his brilliant blue eyes.

“Not what, Arthur? A prat?” Merlin turned to look at the owner of the strong hand holding his shirt hostage.

“No, Merlin,” Arthur responded, eyes snapping up to the manservant’s imploringly. “Let me finish.”

“Well, hurry it up then, sire. Some of us would like to be somewhat rested for the morrow.” Merlin glanced away from the prince, gazing longingly towards the freedom the doorway held just beyond his reach.

“I’m not interested in Guinevere!” The statement flew forth from the prince, more noise than actual words.

Taking a moment to understand, Merlin returned his gaze to his master’s. “Well, forgive me, _sire_ , for assuming your intentions. If you really aren’t interested, maybe you should be making yourself clear to Gwen, not me.”

“Merlin, you utter buffoon,” Arthur hissed. “I am not interested in Gwen because…because-” The prince trailed off again, going quiet and turning himself from Merlin so that he now sat cross-legged in the center of the bed.

“Because?” Merlin prompted, rolling his eyes at the prince’s childishness.

“Because I like…someone else.” At this, Arthur flopped face down, as though trying to hide from all his cares and troubles.

“Well, that’s…good,” Merlin said slowly, still not understanding what was going on. He watched as the blonde man stiffened at his words, wriggling on the bed so that he was now staring- no, glaring- at his manservant.

Arthur, clearly pissed off for who knows what reason, beckoned Merlin closer. The large-eared manservant obliged, stepping towards the bed and leaning closer to his fuming master.

Suddenly, Arthur’s hand was behind Merlin’s neck, dragging the surprised manservant towards the blonde. Their lips met, Arthur’s hungrily probing, Merlin’s rigid from shock. Merlin’s eyes flashed gold and Arthur was sent sprawling back from him. Unfortunately for Merlin, his master’s grip was not broken, causing him to be dragged along for the ride.

“What the hell was that, Merlin?” Arthur was staring at the man still trapped in his clutch, shocked and confused.

“I could ask the same of you, Arthur,” Merlin responded snarkily, trying to mask his panic at having accidentally used magic in front of one of the worst people to do so. Merlin had landed next to the prince, but Arthur was already sitting up, looming over him as Merlin himself was trapped on his back.

Realizing his vulnerable position, Merlin attempted to further distract his master from his blatant breach of Camelot’s laws. “Arthur, why did you kiss me?”

The prince in question took the bait, and Merlin never thanked any gods more than he did when the still-drunk Arthur responded, seemingly forgetting of the magic. “I like you, Merlin…a lot.”

The young warlock was thrown, caught in shock and unable to move or register anything.

The golden prince, in all his drunken glory, didn’t seem to notice the effect of this confession. Instead, he leaned down and captured Merlin’s soft lips again. Slowly, Arthur worked his tongue in between his servant’s lips, exploring his unmoving mouth.

A moan from the prince finally brought Merlin back to his senses, and the warlock promptly pushed against his master, attempting to break the contact. Arthur, noticing his actions, pulled away, a questioning look forming on his perfect face.

“What, Merlin?”

Sputtering, the servant in question attempted to wiggle himself into a sitting position. “Arthur, you can’t just- I can’t believe you’d- Why?” After settling on the question, Merlin stopped moving, still on his back, gazing up at his prince.

“Why?” Arthur seemed confused by the question, leaning back onto his haunches in thought.

Merlin took the opportunity to scramble into a less vulnerable position, shifting into a crouch of sorts.

“I suppose I don’t really know,” the prince finally answered, sapphire eyes still locked on the man before him.

“You don’t know?” Merlin’s comment came more as a whisper. “If you don’t know, then how can you be sure-”

Arthur cut Merlin off, interjecting, “Your smile. Your laugh. Everything about you is just so…” The prince trailed off, trying to find the right word to describe his feelings. “Magical!”

Horror flashed across Merlin’s face, the word dragging images of pyres and axes, public execution. “What makes you say that,” Merlin asked, struggling to maintain an even tone. One wrong move, and he’d have a lot more to worry about than he’d like.

“You enchant me, Merlin. Everything you do draws me in.” Pausing for a moment, the prince starts laughing. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were some kind of sorcerer!”

“Yeah, haha,” Merlin laughed drily. Slowly, he inched backwards, towards the edge of the bed, towards freedom.

But the prince noticed the movement and snatched his wrist with lightning quickness. “Merlin,” he started, eyes pleading. “Do you…do you like me, too?”

As the servant looked into his master’s eyes, he caved at their puppy-dog quality. “Yes, you prat,” he confessed, his cobalt orbs shifting to look anywhere but at the prince before him. “Despite everything, you’re very hard not to like.”

A look of relief crossed the golden prince’s face. “Will you let me kiss you again, Merlin?” Arthur tugged slightly on his servant’s arm before crawling slowly towards him.

“I don’t suppose there’s much of a choice,” Merlin stated, humor flashing across his face, knowing full well that, if he really didn’t want to, he could manage a quick escape.

Hearing this, Arthur excitedly tackled Merlin to the bed, wrapping his arms around the dark-haired man as he brought their lips together once more.

Passion ignited in Merlin, and he hungrily returned the prince’s desperate kisses. Reaching up, the sorcerer tangled his long pale fingers into golden locks, deepening the kiss. His tongue locked in a battle of passionate romance with Arthur’s, both hungry for the other’s affections.

Arthur unwrapped his arms from around his love, hands gently and lovingly caressing Merlin’s sides, his chest, his thighs. Tantalized, Arthur laid himself fully on top of the dark-haired sorcerer, grinding his hips against Merlin’s own. Both men quickly became hard, and Arthur moved to remove the other man’s clothing, starting with his pants.

Sobering up, Merlin quickly pushed the prince’s hands away from him, stopping his attempt at accessing his rather hard erection. “Arthur, wait, please,” Merlin implored. “I’m not…not ready for that…”

Arthur glanced into the cobalt eyes of his love, seeing fear and embarrassment. “That’s alright,” Arthur whispered, leaning down and giving his servant a peck on the lips.

Relief blossomed in Merlin’s chest, touched that his prince, his love, was so understanding. Merlin made a move to rise, preparing to exit the bed.

“Wait, where are you going,” Arthur asked, hand resting on Merlin’s skinny arm.

“Arthur, I need to rest. I can’t function without at least some sleep,” the young warlock responded. Shifting again, Merlin unentangled their legs and moved his over the edge of the bed, preparing to get up.

“Stay with me? Tonight?” The question cut through the lamp-lit room, causing Merlin to pause and turn back to the prince. The prince looked so hopeful, all Merlin could do was nod.

Crawling back to the prince, Merlin shifted, letting Arthur wrap his arms around him once again. Arthur drew Merlin against his chest, entangling their legs and slowly,


End file.
